City High
by xWhiteLynx
Summary: Eighteen or nineteen year old Estrella must work to help provide for not only Huey, but also fix herself back to the way she originally was before she ran away from her former Indiana home.
1. Prologue

All I saw at that moment was white. A white, bright light that had me temporarily blinded. There was no way for me to move; it was almost as though I had been strapped down by an invisible force that was keeping me on the cold, hard metal. I couldn't remember how long I'd been there or why I went to that place, assuming I went for a reason at all. I was just there, something telling me I was there for a reason.  
"She's awake!" his voice was like nails on a chalkboard, everybody else's voices seeming like no more than soft whispers. I could tell that easily, he's the one who was responsible for everything that could've gone either so right or so wrong.  
The white light was instantly replaced by a dark figure of what I thought was a woman; no, I knew it was a woman. No man could ever pull off the body frame she had. I didn't know why I was so drawn to her body frame, it just left me staring. "It's okay sweetie, breathe," her voice was meant to be sweet, but it sounded like a screaming whistle in my head, "This will be over before you know it."  
It seemed as though she was the only one that wasn't alarmed at my awakening. Everybody else around me, their voices had strong senses of urgency, as though they were about to do something of great importance. "Grab the syringe! It was supposed to be ready!" Nails on a chalkboard once again, "The injection needs to happen right fucking now!"  
Injection? What exactly was I there for? The reality of the matter didn't wait for me to think, for in the moment, the millions of stabbing pinches jabbed at my legs and arms. I wanted to scream, but it was almost as though my throat had locked itself up, disabling me to do so.  
The pain seemed to be over just as soon as it had started. I felt nothing. No pain, no bruising, nothing. It was as though all of my pain had just been switched off, like a lamp being switched off at nighttime. I didn't feel any pain at all when the mad man scored the scalpel over my eye. It felt like I should've felt something other than the blood flowing down my face as they tested me - in the sickest way possible - to make sure the injections worked. I felt nothing.

My name is Estrella.  
I was born in 1987. 


	2. Chapter 1

The day I first noticed the young boy I would soon call my son was the same day I set foot in my new home town. After over 10 hours of driving, following a giant moving truck - two drive through meals, endless flicking through the radio, and absolutely no sleep - I finally arrived in the city of Woodcrest, Maryland.  
The stories that I had heard about this town being beaten down were somewhat disspelled once I actually got to explore the city. It was just an average little town with a few restaraunts in general places and small stores everywhere you looked. The apartment complex I decided to make my home neighbored a small neighborhood that looked like it housed no more than at least 70 residents. The houses were small, therefore giving me the impression the apartments would be even smaller. The apartment complex in general resembled more of a small hotel you'd see if it were centered between some cafes or something. The inside of the houses were just large enough to fit a small living room, a kitchen, two small bedrooms and a bathroom. My bedroom, as small as it seemed from the outside, was just big enough for me to have a bed, a dresser, and maybe a bedside desk for a lamp - all of them needing to be small, of course.  
I had a dog, as well. I called him Renegade; he was a medium sized pit-bull mix that I had taken in when he was a stray. He was living proof that a pit-bull was not a dangerous dog, even if he was a mix-breed. He behaved like any other normal dog: eat his food, lounge on the couch for a while, go outside for business and excersize every now and then, and fall asleep at night only to repeat the cycle again the next day. He didn't take to the apartment very quickly, but it eventually dawned on him that we would be here until I could get my hands on enough money to afford an actual house. If that meant finding the shittiest job in town just to ring in some dough, so be it. The first few hours of my new life here seemed to fly by like the wind on a warm summer day. I spent a lot of time setting up my living room and placing all my dishes where they needed to be. My mother - back in Indianapolis - gave me about 5 trash bags full of pots, pans, and other essential kitchen utensils I would need in a kitchen. She also lent me some of her best clothes and some family photo albums so I would be taking a little piece of home with me. My father - who, surprisingly, was more upset about my decision to move away from home than my mother, but accepted that I was old enough to be on my own - lent me an older couch we used to have in our living room, a working TV with directions of how to hook it up, and some parting words that would stick with me forever: "Don't be afraid to be afraid, sweetheart. Your fear isn't meant to push you down, it's meant to push you to try hard." It was cheesy as hell, but at the same time, it just seemed so right.  
Once everything was set up to my liking, I glanced at the Hello Kitty watch that was a Christmas gift from my mother one year. It was only 7 o' clock, which wasn't bad considering it felt like I had been working all day. I was tired and hungry, so I decided a run to the gas station nearby was well deserved. I grabbed some money, gave Renegade a hug, and left the apartment. The gas station was within walking distance, so I just walked instead of getting in my car and driving there. I was just walking up to the front entrace when I bumped into a little kid. I looked down to get a good look at him, but the first thing that caught my eye was his giant hair; it was like cotton candy, a big serving of dark brown cotton candy. The second thing that caught my eye was the look on his face. The frown stuck there as though somebody had taken super glue and glued his mouth in that position forever. The rest of his appearance was just general stuff; dark skin, brown eyes, generic clothing. Not really a big deal.  
I realized immediately that he was also looking over me, scanning, observing, looking for something. I couldn't help but ask myself what about me made him observe so closely. Was it the scar over my left eye? Or was it that I had one blue eye and one green eye, the blue eye being caused by an incident that happened when I was a baby? It was easy to tell a ton of questions were racing through his head, but I guess he didn't ask because we were complete strangers at the time. "Pardon me," the words flew out of my mouth unexpectedly. I didn't expect to excuse myself for running into the kid, but I thought it would be nice to give the impression that I wasn't some stuck up bitch who got all emotional over a small bump. "Don't worry about it," he answered, his voice rather flat and emotionless. I nodded my thanks to the kid and held the door open, allowing him to go inside first. For a minute, he just looked at me as though there was still something about me he was trying to find. He then nodded his own thanks and walked in the store, going on about his business as if our encounter hadn't happened. I thought to myself, funny how things worked out that way; You meet somebody, and you feel like there's some kind of connection, but in one moment, it's all over.  
When I returned home, my small bag of snacks in one hand and my key in the other, I was greeted by Renegade padding up to me, sitting at my feet. My mind instantly went back to when he was a younger pup; my mother spent forever trying to get him to calm down when someone was at the door. All of the training she gave him paid off. "Good boy," I muttered just loud enough for him to hear, patting his head.  
I went through the snacks in just a little under 20 minutes, sitting in complete silence on my couch and enjoying the peacefulness. Everything was fine until about 11 o' clock that night, when I heard my neighbors stumbling into their apartments. From the sound of it, most of them were drunk. As I lay awake in my bed that night, I thought I could hear a couple right next door to me having sex. Renegade growled when he heard them, and of all the things I wished I could've done, all I could do was pat his head and tell him to take it easy.  
It took a while for me to finally be able to let my eyelids droop. The bed was comfortable, very soft. Once I was able to get myself in a secure position, it wasn't long before I unconsciously found myself sound asleep. 


	3. Chapter 2

After only a few days of living in Woodcrest, I seemed to really settle into life as it was. It was actually very simple once everything was situated. All I had to do was wake up, brush my hair and teeth, be polite, and never overstay my welcome. As far as I was concerned, life was pretty good. A few of the neighbors were a hassle to deal with, but they weren't too big of a deal - when they were sober, anyway. They would just smile at me and say hello, then move on as though nothing was wrong.  
On some of the more lonely nights, when I was laying down with Renegade and there was nothing better to do, I thought about that kid I ran into on my first day there. I ran into him one other time, and I found out his name. Huey, Huey Freeman, and he was only 10 years old at the time. I also found out that he had a brother, and that they had both lived with their grandfather at the time. I didn't know why he never said anything about his parents, but assuming the worst might've happened to them, I never asked him. My mother always said, It's better to not ask and to assume than to ask and bring up more pain.  
For a while, I thought it was going to be simple forever, until a few nights before the really bad thing happened.  
I had been out to a movie one night, and as I was going home, two guys ran into me, nearly knocking me off my feet. I managed to look at them before they realized they ran into me. I had to admit it, they were pretty damn hot. They looked to be around 20, dark hair and skin as tan as tan could be. At first, I thought they were from Florida or something, but when I heard them talk, it became clear to me that they were probably from Spain or Cuba. Their accents were a little thick, giving me the impression that they hadn't been here long enough for the accent to fade.  
One of them looked back and saw me staring, extending a hand to help me regain my balance. "Hey, sorry 'bout that, sweetie," he said, and I realized that he had definitely been in America long enough to pick up on the way we talk. I was too focused on his beautiful blue eyes to say anything back. His hand was warm and strong, and his biceps made him look even more handsome than I first imagined. I glanced over at his friend, who had cocoa brown eyes and was smaller than he was. Slightly less attractive, but still good looking.  
"It's alright," I finally managed, letting go of his hand after I regained my balance, "I was just going home."  
His friend looked at me and spoke this time, "Wouldn't you rather come with us for a few drinks?" His accent was a lot heavier, so he definitely arrived later than his friend.  
At first, I wasn't sure what I should've said. I didn't even know the guys for five minutes, and they had already been inviting me to have drinks. My mind went back to when I was probably 14, and I remembered my dad letting me have a drink at a pool party. "It's okay to break the rules every now and then, baby," he said, "as long as you don't get arrested while doing it." So I thought, what the hell. "Sure, I'll go with you."

As fate would have it, the two guys only lived about 3 apartments down from me, which was good because at least it meant that I wasn't too far away from home. They told me their names before we arrived, Jason and Maxwell. At first, I didn't think they were very Spanish names, but since I was an American with a Spanish name, I didn't say anything.  
There were two other girls in the apartment when we entered, whose names ended up being Tracy and Alexandra. They were both pretty beautiful: long, dark hair; emerald green eyes; model like bodies.  
Alexandra became super touchy with me almost immediately. I blushed in embarrassment as she put her hand on my cheek and worked it down all the way to my shoulder blade.  
"You're new in the neighborhood, aren't you?" She spoke with her lips so close to my face that, for a minute, I thought she was going to try and kiss me. My face burned.  
"Yes, I am," I replied, attempting to hide my embarrassment, "just moved in barely a week ago. The name's Estrella." I kept my eyes glued to her face as I spoke. She smiled a bit more with every word I said, as though having a new "friend" around made her feel like a child on Christmas Day.  
I exhaled nervously and took a drink of the fruit punch-whipped vodka Jason made for me. Alexandra turned down every drink offer that was given to her, saying that she had already found her "buzz of choice". I just looked at her, but said nothing.  
I had never been drunk before in my life, but it felt like I had hit my limit after maybe 4 or 5 drinks. By then, my stomach started to hurt, and it felt like I couldn't drink anything anymore without feeling nauseous. A few times, I put my head down, hoping it was a sign to everybody else that I was done, but it didn't stop Tracy from slamming one more drink in front of me. "Just one more, Estrella! It won't hurt!" she shouted at me. I never found out why she felt the need to shout at me, since she was right next to my ear and I could've been able to hear her if she whispered. My guess, she was already way past her limit.  
I threw caution to the wind and downed the drink in about 45 seconds. I could hear Jason and Tracy cheering at me, but all I felt was the sudden need to get the hell out. It was as if all of the liquid inside me had bounced back up my throat, threatening to spill out at any moment. Quickly and against every instinct I had to lay still, I dashed outside the apartment and threw up over the railing of the stairs.

Everything that happened to me after I threw up was a blur, but I do remember that I woke up with Maxwell's feet in my face, everybody passed out asleep in various parts of the apartment. By the way the place looked, I had thought they'd gone on for several hours after I passed out, whenever that was. I didn't wait to find out, though. I hadn't been home all night, and I knew that was where I needed to be.  
Getting home after that night was hell to pay; I stumbled down the way like a newborn horse, I smelled strongly of alcohol and cigarettes, and my head was pounding as though my heart and my brain switched places temporarily. The "Walk of Shame", I preferred to call it, since I had gone out and done things I wish I never agreed to.  
I did make it home, though. I don't know how, but I managed to jiggle my key into the lock awkwardly until the door flew wide open. Renegade came up and greeted me, as always, taking his seat right in front of me at the door. "Hi, sweetie," I greeted, dropping to my knees and giving him a good rub on his head. He could smell the alcohol on my breath, I knew it, and he gave me a whimper of disapproval. It was bad, I couldn't help but agree with him.  
I shut the door and locked it, laying face down on my couch. The lack of sleep from the previous night had me completely drained, so I decided to just take it easy that afternoon. It would've been so much easier to condemn my behavior if it hadn't affected me so much, but overtime, it became more and more like my wild night never happened. After a few hours of sleep and several glasses of cold water, I felt so much better, as if the hangover was no more than a slight stomachache.  
I was just going on what was probably my seventh glass of water when I heard sirens outside. I listened closely to see if I could tell what kind of siren it was. Fire truck. It was very clear to me; there were a lot of fire trucks back home, so I could tell them apart easily from a police car or ambulance. The only difference between the two is that, since they would usually be going somewhere so close to me, my dad and I always had a good view of them fighting the fire.  
Naturally, I was drawn to step outside and see where they were going. I watched as the red and white lights zipped past the apartment complex and raced to the scene of the incident. I could see black smoke rising in the distance, realizing that the scene wasn't far at all. "This I gotta see," I thought out loud to myself, feeling like I was still home for a minute, only without my father.

After sliding some shoes on, I jogged to the scene and made it there in probably five minutes. Embers were already flying everywhere and the heat was spreading like a virus. I watched as the small house was being turned to char and ash. As I edged closer, I could hear the conversations the firemen were having. It was interesting to me how they were fighting to save lives, while at the same time managing a few conversations in between the time.  
As I edged closer, I also heard something that was far too distinct to be a fireman's voice. No, this voice was way more childlike, coming from inside the house. I looked up at the windows, seeing the unmistakable shape of somebody's giant hair. I watched in complete shock as the child kept looking up and down from the window, screaming for the firemen to help him and his brother.

The child screaming for help was Huey Freeman.


	4. Chapter 3

My heart pounded like it was trying to break through and jump out of my chest as I dashed to the back door of the burning house, not once losing the spot that I saw Huey. Lots of questions shot through my head. Why couldn't the firemen hear his cries? Why weren't they searching for anybody? Didn't they know that the life of a ten year old boy was on the line?  
I was scared, and I knew it was going to be one the second stupidest thing I'd done in the past 24 hours, but I knew it was up to somebody to get the child out of that house alive. If these firemen weren't gonna do it, I sure as hell was. I made it to the back door and kicked at the doorknob with all my might, all my strength, until it finally gave way and broke off the door. I kicked the door open the rest of the way, immediately feeling the heatwave escape the open space. Hot flames and embers engulfed the air. I dashed in the house and up the stairs to the room Huey was trapped in, feeling almost positive that I should've felt that my clothes could catch on fire at any second and I would burn to death. It was a minor thought, considering I also knew I wouldn't have felt it anyway, but I couldn't help but to ask myself what it would feel like if I could.  
Huey's door easily gave in on impact of the kick. I realized immediately that he wasn't in the room alone; there was another little kid at his knees, much smaller than Huey and with different hair. His brother, I realized. I swallowed hard when I noticed he wasn't moving a millimeter, and his chest didn't rise and fall to indicate breathing.  
My heart completely shattered instantly.  
My thought process was interrupted by the crashing sound of the ceiling beginning to collapse and fall apart in the hallway. The fire was beginning its destruction process of the house, working its way down until the whole thing was ash. I lunged forward to avoid a piece of ceiling as it fell and almost took my head. We didn't have much time. Any more waiting, and we were gonna die for sure.  
"Come on!" I shouted as I grabbed Huey's arm to get him to look at me. He was terrified, I could see it in his eyes. This was a surprise to me; he didn't seem like the kind of kid that would be afraid even in the face of death, so seeing him scared was a first to me.  
"Don't leave my brother behind!" He yelled back to me, turning his attention back to the body in front of him. I swallowed hard again and fought back the tears that threatened to spill.  
"Come on!" I repeated, and that time I picked him up to make sure he came. Before I could think of taking the stairs back down, the doorway collapsed in the space I once stood, blocking my original plan for an escape route. "Shit," I swore under my breath, scanning the room for another way out.  
I decided the only possible way we were going to escape with as little injury as possible was jumping out of the window. "Hold on!" I shouted to Huey, holding him like a lifeline as I kicked the window out, jumping through the hole. I closed my eyes tight, feeling the wind that pushed against my back as we fell. I landed back first in a bush, thankful that the fire hadn't spread that much yet.  
"Oh my god, are you okay?" A voice asked me. Huey, I could tell. His voice was close, his arms were wrapped around my neck as though I was only hugging him.  
"I'm fine," I answered. I really was fine, didn't feel a thing.  
"My brother is still in there," Huey cried, his voice only loud enough for me to hear. I felt like I was about to shatter and break right there, as I listened to his cries for me to save his brother.  
I looked him deep in his eyes. They were brown, the same dark chocolate brown I remembered them being. "I'm sorry, sweetie," me voice shook as I told him what he needed to know, "your brother is dead."  
The way Huey looked at me, I could tell he didn't want to cry. "Then that means " his pupils dilated like a terrified kitten, and I guessed that he was thinking about the grandfather he told me about before that day. I hadn't seen him at all, but I was almost positive that the body of Huey's granddad was also in the house, being eaten alive by the flames, his skin and bones turning to ash.  
Huey couldn't handle it anymore, and I think he finally reached the breaking point he'd been holding back for what was probably all his life. Tears flooded down his face like water rushing down a river, his sobs broken like glass. At one point, it sounded like he couldn't breathe and I had to pound on his back a little bit to make sure he didn't suffocate himself. I didn't know what to do or say, so all I did was wrap my arms around him gently, saying nothing. I held him there on my shoulder and let him cry. There wasn't any use in trying to get him to stop, I knew I would've felt the same brokenness he was feeling if I were in his position.  
"Why did this happen?" Huey whimpered into my shoulder after sobbing for probably a full minute. His voice was the most pitiful thing I had ever heard. The quiet, calm voice he had before had been tainted by brokenness and shattered sobs.  
Of all the things I could've said - which honestly wasn't much - all I could manage was: "I don't know, I really don't know." I could've told him that it was gonna be okay and that this isn't what's supposed to happen, but I wasn't even sure if it would all be okay myself.  
As I fought back the feeling of helplessness I had at the time, I pulled up enough courage to make Huey look at me and ask him, "Do you have a place to stay tonight?" He hesitated and nodded at first, but it was easy to tell he was lying. "Don't you dare lie to me." I commanded, my voice going noticeably serious. Again, he hesitated, but then he shook his head shamefully.

Huey held himself together long enough for us to get back to my apartment without any problems. I wasn't sure how I expected him to react to this place. I knew he'd think it was different, going from a normal sized house to a tiny apartment, but I didn't know how different he'd think it was.  
For the first few minutes, all he did was look around the place, nervousness and trauma plastered all over his face. I felt like I'd just brought home a new puppy as I watched the way he scanned the apartment. Once he finally perched on the couch, I felt like he was in a safer place and smiled.  
Renegade came trotting in almost immediately after Huey sat down, and they both locked eyes. The fear on Huey's face instantly sparked back up, and he watched with nervousness as Renegade jumped on the couch, sitting next to him. I watched the both of them, curious to see what would happen, but also ready to take action in case Renegade didn't take to Huey.  
But Renegade didn't show any signs of aggression or hate towards Huey at all. After sniffing him for a silent minute, he gave him a warm welcome with a friendly lick on his hand. I smiled again, thankful that the environment was a welcoming and friendly one.

I slipped away to my bedroom and leaned up against my bed, looking over the whole thing and the way it had been up to that point. I had a kid that just lost everything, probably jusy dying on the inside and holding back a ton of questions that had no answers. As good as it felt to know I was probably doing the right thing, I was feeling the same way anybody in that situation would've felt: shit scared of what the future had in store, and just left to wonder what would happen next. 


	5. Chapter 4

My hand trembled as I squeezed the phone that was wrapped up in my fingers, nervousness flooding through my body. Glancing over at the sleeping Huey, I watched for a moment as his chest rose and fell with every breath he took. It took me forever to convince him that nothing would happen while he slept. I was letting him sleep in my bed, the only bed I had at the time, and I would just sleep on the couch that night. It wasn't until I did manage to get him to sleep that I decided that I knew just what it was I had to do about him. Before I could do anything, though, I knew just who it was I had to call. The thought of the call made me nervous as hell, though, just thinking of what would possibly be said and what the outcome would be.  
I pressed the speed dial number for her, trying to push all the negative thoughts to the back of my head, and listened to the ringer on the other end. Just two rings, and I heard just the voice I was looking for.  
"Mom?"  
My own voice surprised me. As nervous as I was, it came out so casual that it even threw me off. Then I thought, maybe I actually could pull this entire conversation off.  
"Estrella?" My mom's sugar sweet voice made me feel calm inside. She sounded half surprised, half excited, as though she had expected me to call soon but was surprised at the timing. "What's up, sweetie? Are you okay?"  
"Yes," I answered, which was sort of a lie, since my stomach felt like it was about to pop like a balloon, "Uh, listen, there's something very serious I need to talk to you about."  
My mother listened in silence as I told her all about what happened with Huey. I told her about how I bumped into him twice before the bad stuff happened, then I told her about how the bad stuff actually happened, up until where I was at that time. The whole time, I had to take heavier breaths as the story intensified, and one point during the part about the fire, I think she could tell I was about to choke, because she stopped me and told me to not go on until I had something to drink. My mother always had a way of making things easier for me when she knew it was affecting me negatively.  
As I ended the portion of the call where I was telling her about the past, I swallowed hard. I knew what I was about to ask her would either be the best thing or the worst thing, but I was asking her because I knew she would guide me in the way that would be the best. "So, I was thinking..." I paused, took a breath, and went on, "What would you think about me taking him in? You know, like, taking care of him and stuff?" I bit down on my bottom lip hard. For a few minutes, she didn't answer me, and I began to worry I had given her a heart attack from what I asked. But then she finally started talking.  
"After everything that's happened, I do think it would be a very good thing for you to take care of him," she began, and at first I thought I had this whole idea in the bag, but then she continued, "however, his mental and emotional state is so messed up right now, so don't be surprised if he doesn't take to the idea right away."  
Okay, so I admit, she did bring up something I hadn't thought too hard about at the time. And she was right, wasn't ashamed to admit it. Huey's emotional state was so bad, he probably would've let himself die in that fire, had it not been for me. "Yeah, I definitely won't, but I just feel like it'd be the right thing to do. I can't just drop him off somewhere and expect him to fend for himself." I glanced over at Huey and saw he was still asleep, his fist so close to his mouth that for a minute, I thought he might've been sucking his thumb.  
"I get that, honey," my mom's voice noticebly went from serious to soft again, "and you know that if you decide to do this, your father and I will support you like crazy, even if you're not here anymore. I just hope you know what you're getting yourself into."  
"I know, mom." I wasn't completely lying when I said that. I really had no freaking idea what I was getting myself into, but I knew it would be the right thing. I sighed heavily into the phone, and I heard my mom say she would get off so I could rest. I closed my phone and put it down on the nightstand, glancing back at Huey. He was still asleep, looking much more content and relaxed than he was before. I felt it would be the best time to escape the room, and I slid through the ajar door, leaving it open just a little bit in case he woke up. The couch suddenly became the most comfortable thing in the world, or maybe it was just because I was so damn tired. I was fast asleep in no time.

I opened my eyes and saw that it was close to 6 in the morning. I don't know what woke me up so early, but I couldn't go back to sleep after I woke up that first time. All I did was lay on my back, staring at the ceiling and thinking. I thought a lot, mainly about what mom had said. I had all the support in the world from her and my dad, no matter what I decided to do. Did I really know if I wanted to actually take care of Huey, like he was my son? And even if I did, how would I know how he would take it? For about an hour, all of the possibilities zipped through my head, begging to be noticed.  
My thought process was interrupted when I heard a loud sob from the bedroom. Huey woke up, and by the sound of it, I could tell he had a nightmare. I speed walked back to the bedroom and sat down on the edge of the bed, pulling him into a tight hold without making him talk. I didn't ask, and he didn't say. It didn't feel right for me to ask.  
As I sat there holding him, I got a feeling that I couldn't explain, but it was a nice feeling. It felt like everything was just right, that everything was, for the moment, as it should've been. That's when it hit me. I actually smiled as I sat there, holding the sobbing child, knowing just what it was I was going to do.  
I was going to take the best care of this child. 


End file.
